“Sure, Sophie.” Rachel glanced into the rearview mirror, but couldn’t make out the child’s face. “Ask me anything.”
“Well…w-what…” Sophie paused, then tried again. “What does it feel like…you know…to kiss a boy?”
Rachel’s brows rose. She’d fully expected to hear complaints about Sloan’s stubbornness, about what the girls surely labeled their father’s overprotective nature. It hadn’t dawned on her that Sophie’s question would deal with relationships. Wow, this conversation just might lead to a discussion about the birds and the bees.
However, rather than being distressed by the prospect, Rachel felt honored. Sophie’s question let Rachel know the girls felt comfortable with her. Comfortable to talk about anything. Even kissing boys.
Before she could answer, Sydney giggled at her sister’s query. But Sasha’s tone was awestruck as she asked Sophie, “Do you really think Bobby will kiss you at the party?”
Rachel sensed Sophie’s shrug.
“Well, it’s New Year’s Eve,” Sophie began slowly. “People always hug and kiss to celebrate the coming in of the new year, right?”
Sasha’s voice became even more breathless. “You’re right. They do.”
Sydney’s laughter quickly died, and she, too, seemed overwhelmed by the prospect that her sister might experience her first real, honest-to-goodness kiss in just four short days.
The air felt all shivery with apprehension.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Rachel said softly. “It’s nice. Being kissed, I mean. When your lips touch, it’ll feel…nice. Warm. But the biggest reaction you’ll have is inside. Your stomach will become jumpy. Jittery. Giddy. You’ll feel light-headed, and your knees will get weak.”
Where on earth was this description coming from? Rachel wondered. She hadn’t been kissed in so long…she couldn’t even remember how long it had been! Where did she get off telling the triplets what to expect?
“Ick!” Sydney said. “Sounds like flu symptoms to me.”
Rachel didn’t have time to chuckle before Sasha’s serious tone cut in, “You’ll have to make sure you brush your teeth, Sophie. You wouldn’t want to smell like those cocktail wienies that Debbie said her mom is going to serve as snacks.”
Sydney absently played with her zipper, the metal teeth grinding as the coat was anxiously fastened and unfastened. “And you know how Debbie’s mom thinks she’s a gourmet cook. She puts garlic in everything.”
“Gosh,” Sophie said, “I won’t be able to eat all night.”
“Sure you will.” Rachel pulled the car to a halt at a stop sign and looked for oncoming traffic. “Just keep a stick of gum or a breath mint handy, and pop it into your mouth a few minutes before the count-down begins.”
Sophie’s voice was tight as she declared, “I’ll just die of embarrassment if Dad makes us leave the party too early.”
Rachel sensed rather than saw the other two girls nod in silent agreement.
“Why is Dad so uptight, anyway?” Sydney asked.
“Doesn’t he know that curfews are…jeez, well, that they’re so old-fashioned?” Sasha added.
Rachel suppressed a sigh. “He loves you,” she told the girls. “He’s only trying to be the best dad he can be. And as for curfews being old-fashioned—” she couldn’t keep the humor out of her voice “—I want to hear you tell me that again once you’re raising children of your own.”
“Oh, I would never tell my kids when they have to come in.”
Laughter actually bubbled up from Rachel’s throat, and she had trouble quelling it. She found the utter sincerity in Sydney’s tone comical, although she knew the child really thought she meant what she was saying.
“And I would never make them leave a party early.”
Sophie’s sullen countenance made Rachel sigh. “Look, guys. You’re going to the party. You’d better be willing to compromise about when you come home.”
“We are going to the party,” Sasha agreed with Rachel, pointing out the fact to her siblings. “And we get to pick out new dresses, too.”
The parking lot of the mall was nearly deserted on this snowy night.
“I say we have some dinner,” Rachel said as she turned off the engine of her car. “Then we’ll hit the stores.”
“Look, Rachel won’t be gone for long,” Sydney told her sisters in the restaurant. “She’ll be back from the ladies’ room before we know it…so listen up, we need to talk.”
“About what?” Sasha asked, dipping a French fry in ketchup and nibbling the end. “This curfew thing?”
Sophie looked interested.
“Not just the curfew,” Sydney said. “But Dad in general. He’s so protective. It’s weirding me out.”
“Me, too,” Sasha agreed.
Sophie automatically whispered, “Me, three,” the onion ring she held in her fingers for the moment forgotten.
“We’ve gotta do something,” Sydney declared. “And we’ve gotta do it now. Or he’s going to ruin our lives. We’re going to be teenagers next month.”
The other sisters nodded, all three growing silent as they pondered. Any passerby would have gotten the impression that the girls were contemplating paradise.
“We need to find some way to get him to stop pestering us about where we’re going and who we’re with and when we’ll be home.”
Sasha’s mouth curled up derisively. “This is Dad we’re talking about. That’s never going to happen.”
Insulted, Sydney shot back, “It could happen. All we need is a plan.”
“What we need,” Sophie said, “is to present Dad with something other than us to concentrate on.”
“His patients have always taken up a lot of his time.” Another French fry disappeared between Sasha’s lips.
“It’s not nice to hope people get sick.” Sophie dropped the onion ring and wiped her fingers on a napkin.
“I’d never do that.” Sasha looked aggrieved. “I was just sayin’—”
“What we need,” Sydney said, “is a diversion for Dad.”
“Hey!” Sophie’s dark eyes lit up. “Remember when Dr. Greg hired that nanny a couple months ago? Miss Jane turned his life upside down.”
“We’re too old for a nanny,” Sydney said.
“Jeez, Sydney, you’re so infantile.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about a nanny for us. I’m talking about a nanny for Dad.”
Her sisters looked at her as if they thought she had lost her marbles.
Again she rolled her eyes. “A woman…for Dad.”
“Eeewww!” Sasha’s face scrunched up tight. “What woman would want Dad? He’s old.”
“Wow, Sophie,” Sydney breathed, “you’re a genius. I remember Dr. Greg called Dad and Dr. Travis and asked them to come into the office for those emergency meetings of theirs lots of times. All about Miss Jane.”
Sophie looked more sure of herself. “And come to think of it, Dr. Travis is pretty shook up over having Miss Diana came to live with him, too.” She took a moment to ponder.
“How are